Sad was he who was delivered into the hands of fate, Thankful was he that it wasn’t a second too late. Fate was kind however in making his passing swift, for never could he live with a heart that contained such a gaping rift. For die did he as the result of the betrayal by the one he loved. Death was not the intended result, merely the consequence of denying love. Revealed to him was this betrayal by a carelessly forgotten glove. Enraged was he by this treason that shamelessly did occur, but it was never aimed at she for whom his heart did stir. Trip did she the man who loved her trying to stop his madness, or at least his sanity prolong, for still did she love this man who never did her wrong. Crack did he his skull on the vanity of his betrayer, fall did he into the arms of his slayer. Cry did she, for die did he the man who truly loved her. The blood seeped through her hands mingling with her tears. The question lingering on her lips recognized her greatest fears, how did he ever love her.

Fate took him then into her welcoming arms. Now safe was he from any worldly harms. Blissfully he accepted his fate and left the weary traitor, though sad was he to leave this life, for he still could never hate her. Sink did he into the abyss headed for the land above, the only question on his lips was to whom belonged the glove?